


lost;

by constellationsofsentences



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Be Prepared for Tears, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:57:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationsofsentences/pseuds/constellationsofsentences
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry loses his first love to the graveyard. it's never going to happen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost;

_I never want to feel this way again,_ Harry decides as soon as he lands with a _thump_ , arms tired and full. He feels as if he’s been ripped in two, and all of his happiness is leaking out of his body. He aches all over, and Harry knows it’s not just from the duel. There is a constant _pang!_  in his chest as he lies on his back, clutching the body. No, not the body. _Cedric_. All he wants is to die, and as the wave of ministry officials and teachers converge upon him, he hopes more than anything that they will just drown him; because nothing is worth staying in this awful world, this awful Cedric-less world. He feels someone lift him up, and suddenly someone is upon him, giving him a hug, and the sound of loss fills the air as Cedric’s father cries for his son, for his child, and Harry has to close his misty eyes.

He is not sure where he is being taken; he hopes he is being led to his warm bed in the tower, so he can curl up under the covers and just cry, wash away his heart and sorrow and dreams; but it seems he is not in luck. He is ditched on a chair, but the tears cloud his vision and he can only just make out the figure of Professor Moody, hunched over in his seat, speaking to him, but the voice that replies is robotic, not his own, and the tears are spilling out now and he _just can’t help it_. Moody has said something, and he hasn’t heard, and then all of a sudden there’s  a bang and then swirling voices and people everywhere and all Harry wants to do is talk to Cedric. But he can’t, because Cedric is dead, Cedric is _dead_ and it’s all Harry’s fault. 

When he is finally sent back to his dorm he can barely find his way, but he stumbles blindly through the corridors and gets to his bed, and then all of a sudden there’s this awful _rage_ boiling up inside of him and he buries himself beneath the sheets and screams into his pillow. He wakes Neville up; he doesn’t care. He has lost his everything and it is all he can do to keep himself from breaking something. He pulls on one of Cedric’s sweaters that he stole from the Hufflepuff dormitories, and curls up into the smallest ball he can and shuts his eyes tight. The pain is unbelievable, and he is being crushed from all sides, and behind his eyelids is just an image of Cedric.

 _It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m here, I’m here._ Except it isn’t, and he isn’t, and Harry is falling to pieces, like Cedric was the glue holding him together and he can’t do anything but let himself be broken.

He dreams of Cedric, of the Yule ball and how he called Harry beautiful. Harry had never been called beautiful before, and his reply caught in his throat because _did Cedric Diggory just kiss me?_ and then Cedric pointed to the mistletoe above them and dragged him over to the corner of the room, where they just stood grinning like idiots with their foreheads touching. He dreams of the second task and working together not against each other to figure it out. He dreams of how awkward he’d been at the baths, how soft the bubbles made his skin feel. He dreams of their first date, how they’d crept through the Honeyduke’s passage and bought some chocolate to share by the fire in the Hufflepuff common room. He dreams of the warm hugs and the cool kisses and the love and the trust and the hope for the future.

Sometimes, having a good dream when something terrible has happened makes the terrible thing a lot worse, and sadly, this was true in this case. Everything reminded Harry of Cedric, from pumpkin juice to the window desk in Flitwick’s classroom, from the loose tile of the fifth floor to the spare quills in McGonagall’s office.

Harry hates it.

He hopes that one day, he will be able to move of, have a life, but until he finds a way to fill the gaping hole inside of him, he just has to keep wishing for things to get better.


End file.
